


The Worst

by Bronnwyn



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Shot, listen they belong together okay, you can't tell me something like this wouldn't happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8592550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bronnwyn/pseuds/Bronnwyn
Summary: Ginny Baker really likes Ariana Grande. So does Livan Duarte, apparently.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the space of an hour. All for the love of my brand new OTP.

As a rule, Ginny Baker rarely allowed time for distractions.

The last time she did that, she found herself sopping wet in a stranger’s pool, New Balance sneakers on her Nike licensed feet. Not exactly her finest moment. Then those pictures leaked, and with one scandal after another, she figured it’d be best to keep her head down. For now. All that needed to matter was baseball. Perfecting her signature screwball. Maybe even working some more on that cutter.

Whatever she decided to do, she couldn’t do it without help. Her first instinct was to call Mike, but given that this was an off-day and a rainy one, no less, she decided against it. Rain only seemed to piss the old bear off. He was probably busy anyway. Grooming that beard of his.

After that first thought faded, another came through: Livan.

He was as much her catcher as Mike was at this point. It made sense to reach out to him, right? Right. Digging out her phone, Ginny sent Livan a quick text. _Busy?_ She wrote, then pressed send.

The batting cages here at the stadium were empty. The clubhouse was largely empty as well, a few employees milling about to clean up the place. Where the rest of her fellow Padres were, Ginny couldn’t know. A lot of them had families to look after. Wives to enjoy girlfriends to spend time with. She knew for a fact that Blip and Evelyn were taking the boys out of town for a bit of fun. They invited her, but she declined in favor of coming here. To train. Alone.

She was always alone in one form or another. Alone on the mound, alone in her room, alone in these cages. She didn’t want to admit it, but all this solitude was starting to take its toll. Sure, she had people she could rely on. Her brother, Amelia, her teammates, Al…They were there. They supported her. And part of her felt selfish for wanting more. She already had so much. She was the first woman to play in the majors. She had the fame and the fortune that came with it, but what good did it do when she had the weight of a legacy on her shoulders? Millions of little girls the world over looked to her as an example. She was proof that they, too, could get here one day.

Sticking it out for them, that was what mattered. Sticking it out for herself, that mattered, too.

But at what cost?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her away from her rather morose thoughts.

It was Livan.

_Nope,_ he wrote. _What’s up?_

She typed her reply, something vague about needing help, then pressed send again. This time, she didn’t sit around waiting for an answer. She got up from the bench and turned her speaker on. Some fancy thing she got in the mail. Turns out, even Dr. Dre wanted to be in the Ginny Baker business. Amelia hadn’t indicated whether or not she should move on the deal, but the free merch was nice and it was a good substitute for her headphones, which she’d forgotten at home. The speaker was sitting in her locker.

She was amazed it hadn’t been stolen yet.

Twenty minutes later, Ginny Baker, starting pitcher for the Sand Diego Padres and the first woman to ever play Major League baseball, was dancing around the batting cages to the dulcet tones of Ariana Grande. Usually, her go-to was Katy Perry, but she wanted to try something different today. “Into You” just so happened to be her current jam, and she had the entire _Dangerous Woman_ album downloaded to her phone. She’d barely listened to it until now.

And even though she was supposed to be focusing on baseball right now, it still felt good to take this moment to let loose. She didn’t define it as a _distraction._ That’d be against her own rules. No, this was simply a...rain delay. Until Livan got here. If he was even coming. She hadn’t checked her phone in favor of letting the music play.

So it was a shock to see him, standing in the doorway of the batting cages, watching as she writhed around the room in her sweatpants and t-shirt. The music blasted from the speaker. “Into You” on repeat. If Livan were anyone else she might have immediately stopped dancing and turned it off. But he was Livan Duarte and it was another rare, rainy day in San Diego. And they were the only two people here. And Ginny Baker was so damn tired of feeling like she had to be on all the time.

She just wanted to be off. Just for a little while.

“Hey,” she said over the music, humming the tune under her breath. Maybe it was off-key, but she didn’t care. Mike wasn’t here to make fun of her for it. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

Livan, sporting his own pair of sweatpants and one of his many tight shirts, presented her with a grin. That damn grin. She didn’t even want to _think_ about all the trouble it got him into. Or out of. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and gave it a wiggle. “Maybe you should have checked your phone.” He set his on the bench next to hers. “But I, ah...I see now that you’re busy.”

_A little less conversation, a little more touch my body._

Ginny felt her stomach squeeze at the timeliness of the lyrics. Maybe this was a bad idea. With her mood effectively killed, she hurried over to where her phone was and paused the music. The silence that ensued in its absence was almost deafening. “Sorry,” she said. She had no idea what she was apologizing for. “I mean—Never mind. You, uh, you wanna catch for a bit?”

Livan lifted his shoulder in a half-assed shrug. She both admired and loathed his ability to make everything seem like it didn’t matter as much as it needed to. They both knew his lackadaisical attitude was an act—he cared as much about baseball as she did, and she cared _a lot—_ but it was an effective act nonetheless. “I don’t know, _mami_ , you sure you’re warm enough for it?”

“Duarte’s got jokes today, I see.” Ginny had to fight the smile that begged at the corners of her mouth. She put her phone down and gave his shoulder a playful shove. “You tell anyone about this and I’m never letting you catch for me ever again.”

Livan raised his hands up in mock surrender, his own grin looking now more like a smirk. That infuriating Duarte smirk. No wonder he had so many groupies. “Relax, _mami._ I’m on your side, remember?”

“Uh-huh.” Ginny couldn’t fight her smile anymore. “Sure you are, _papi._ ”

Livan pressed one hand to his chest while the other remained in the air. “When have I ever let you down, hm?”

It was Ginny’s turn to shrug. Honestly, she couldn’t think of a single time where he let her down. Not in the field. Not out of it. But he didn’t need to know that. His ego was big enough as it is. “I’m just saying. I’ve got enough on my plate without you telling everyone I love Ariana Grande.”

Livan breathed a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew exactly what he was doing when he put on one of those shirts. The fabric just clung to every bit of him. Frankly, it was rude. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

She believed him. Really, she did. He’d never given her a reason to doubt him, but she was feeling especially contrary right now, so instead of taking him at his word, she held up her pinky finger. “You have to pinky-swear.”

Livan’s brow quirked up. “What?”

Ginny refused to budge on this. “C’mon,” she said. She didn’t care how stupid this was. “Swear to me that you won’t tell a soul about this.”

Livan blinked down at her. He was…tall. Had she really never noticed that before? “Are you for real?”

“Completely,” she said. She even managed to stop smiling for the occasion.

Sighing, Livan finally gave in and hooked his pinky around hers. “Fine,” he said. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Feeling satisfied in a way she couldn’t quite describe, Ginny let herself grin again and clasped Livan on his shoulder. “Thanks, man,” she said, and started toward the batting cages. “Now, we’ve wasted enough time and I really do want to—”

_I’m so into you, I can barely breathe…_

Oh, _hell_ no.

Ginny whipped around, Ariana Grande filling the room once more, and addressed Livan with real indignation. “You broke the pinky-swear!”

Livan shrugged again. “It’s a good song.”

“You can’t just break the _pinky-swear_ , Duarte!” Ginny rushed to grab her phone, but Livan got there first, holding it up high so that she couldn’t reach it. Laughter bubbled in her throat, and try as she may, she couldn’t stop it. After a few bad jumps that nearly resulted in falling all over him, Ginny settled for giving Livan’s chest a smack. “You’re the worst. You’re never catching for me again, you hear me?”

Livan shook his head, half-walking, half-dancing away from her. He still held her phone hostage. The music blared from the speaker. “ _No puedo oírte_ ,” he said.

“You’re the worst!” She shouted. Just in case he really _didn’t_ hear her.

Livan laughed, then finally decided to press pause on the music. The silence wasn’t so bad this time around. He held her phone out like a kind of peace offering. She wasn’t stupid enough to outright take it, so she slowly inched over to him, reaching across the space between them until she almost had possession of her phone again.

“I don’t bite,” he assured her, looking _very_ amused at her cautious approach.

She wouldn’t fall for it. She knew better. “You just broke a pinky-swear, Duarte. I don’t think I can trust you again.” Watching him like a hawk, she snatched her phone away from him. And for a moment, everything was right in Ginny Baker’s world again.

And then Livan’s arm appeared around her waist. She barely had time to blink before he hoisted her up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What the hell, Duarte?!” She smacked at his shoulders without any sort of conviction behind it. No small pleasure welled up inside her at this little game of theirs. It felt like the most normal thing she’d done in months. Like the thing you saw in movies. You know the ones. Where the boyfriend whisks the girlfriend off her feet and it’s all cute until the next scene.

Livan Duarte wasn’t her boyfriend and she certainly wasn’t his girlfriend—he had one of those—but still. The sentiment was the same.

“Don’t worry, _mami_ ,” he said as he carried her to the batting cages. He tightened his grip, making damn sure she wouldn’t fall. “I’ve got you.”

That he did.


End file.
